Through a Boy's Eyes
by ThriceRedeemed
Summary: When a small boy shows up hurt on Privet Drive, Harry does everything in his power to help him, a deed that may very well lead to his demise at the hands of Voldemort, never suspecting that this boy might be someone he knows. Abuse! Noncon!
1. Prologue: The Plan

_**Story Warnings:**__ Abusive!Dursleys, noncon!, manipulative!Dumbledore, smart!Harry_

**Prologue: The Plan**

"Ssssseverussss," the Dark Lord hissed, a hint of pleasure in his voice as he considered his loyal spy and potions master in the predawn light.

"Yes, my Lord?" the man in question replied, kneeling and kissing the hem of his Master's robes.

"I have a very important mission for you. You have proven your loyalty beyond a doubt, now that that idiot Dumbledore is dead. Therefore, I have entrusted this secret mission to you, to eliminate the only leader left to the Light. Not that he's much of a leader, anyway, more of a mascot, but still…Will you consent to this mission?" It was not a request.

"Of course, my Lord. Anything for you," was the murmured response.

"Good. Now, I have discovered one of the secrets of the wards around Potter's home. No wizard with the intent to kill or harm him can cross them. However, if someone on the inside begins to destroy the wards, they will fall. Your task is to make it past these wards, gain the brat's trust so that he does not suspect you, and then dismantle the wards so that I can get to him."

"But my Lord, there is no way Potter will ever trust me. He knows that it was I who killed his precious Dumbledore and is more likely to kill me than to allow me into his 'domain'. Spoiled brat that he is, I doubt he allows anyone he merely dislikes near him, much less a man he hates."

"Ah, yes, well that is where my genius comes into play…"

* * *

"My Lord, the plan is indeed flawless, not that your brilliance would ever suggest anything less…"

"That's right, Severus. Now, stand here." Voldemort pointed to a spot several meters away. The man obeyed instantly, although beneath his calm exterior, his mind was working furiously. _What can I do to counter this spell? Damn that Potter, always getting into trouble -- that spoiled, pampered little prince thinks he can endanger the lives of everyone around him just because he's the 'Chosen One'!_

Voldemort waited until the Potions Master had turned to face him before suddenly slashing his wand through the air. The clearing where they had been standing filled instantly with an amber light as the man crumpled to the ground, moaning in agony. Voldemort watched for a moment, a sadistic grin on his face, before touching his wand to his left arm and summoning the rest of his followers. When he was finished, he turned back towards the lump on the ground that had been Severus Snape as he heard the telltale pops of his apparating followers.

"My friendssss," he greeted them as they formed a circle around him. "How nice to ssssee you."

* * *

The small boy groaned as he attempted to move, but an unfamiliar voice immediately cried out "Stupefy!" and a red light slammed into his chest as he sunk into unconsciousness.

* * *

Meanwhile, on Privet Drive a teenage boy moaned softly as he wiped tears from his eyes. _Stupid nightmares_, he thought scathingly as he attempted to block the memories from his mind. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't keep the images of the fight at the Ministry at bay.

Sirius, falling through the veil.

Dumbledore, killed by a flash of green light coming from the wand of a certain Potions Master.

His friends, attempting to duel Death Eaters with far superior skills.

The wounded, lying in the Hospital Wing after the battle.

All his fault.

_Merlin, _he thought despondently. _Why am I such an idiot? I should have realized it was nothing more than a trick…and now they're dead. Dumbledore, Sirius, Cedric, Mum and Dad…how many more will it take before—_

He bit his bottom lip sharply to keep himself from thinking anymore.

_Might as well get up and start breakfast. If I do it now, maybe I can sneak some before Aunt Petunia notices._

He slipped out of the room on silent feet, just in time to avoid hearing the sharp pop of an apparating wizard arriving on the property, not realizing that his life was about to change drastically. Again.


	2. The Boy

_**Warnings: **__Abusive!Dursleys, noncon!, manipulative!Dumbledore, smart!Harry_

**The Boy**

Ever since he had returned from his first year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter had helped the neighborhood kids on Privet Drive. Well, technically, he'd been helping as best he could well before that, but it was only after Hogwarts that he had both the skills and the self-confidence to truly keep them safe. He taught self-defense lessons, lent an ear when someone needed to talk, and did everything in his power to protect them from bullies, especially Dudley and his gang, including, when necessary, letting them beat him up in return for letting the other kid go. He also had a "First Aid Station" set up in the Dursleys' garden shed, where all the kids knew they were welcome if they needed him. Of course, this "heroism" didn't come without a price, as Dudley hated to be made a fool of and had no compunctions about complaining to his parents when Harry interfered with his "fun", but Harry was quite willing to accept punishment as long as the younger kids, who he considered his responsibility, stayed safe, particularly this summer.

The fiasco at the Ministry, had left Harry overcome with guilt. He blamed himself for the death of both his godfather and the headmaster, both of whom had been incredibly dear to him. Because of this, he was prepared to view anything the Dursleys doled out as just punishment for his stupidity -- after all, neither Sirius nor Dumbledore would have been at the Ministry if it weren't for his "saving people complex", as Hermione called it.

If anyone had bothered to look deeper, however, they would have discovered that Harry's self-martyrdom had causes that ran far deeper and extended much further back than anyone would have guessed. From the time he was two years old, his relatives had treated him as worthless, nothing more than a burden both to them and to society in general. He was, according to them, a freak who didn't deserve even the basest human necessities and he had never truly experienced anything to the contrary. Even after he'd entered the wizarding world, he found that he was still a "freak" who was vastly different from ordinary people, a topic of gossip (both complimentary and defamatory), a symbol for the Light, a tool to be used to save the world and nothing more. Going from the Dursleys, where he was regarded as filth, to the wizarding world, where he was regarded as a hero and savior, had indeed been a shock and had balanced out some of his insecurities (for instance, he now knew that he was powerful and could actually do things to assist other people), but it merely reinforced the notion that had been ingrained in him since childhood: he existed to be used, his life did not matter in the long run and his own thoughts and feelings were inconsequential. Because of this, he had no qualms about sacrificing himself for the good of others.

Naturally, all that was buried deep in his subconscious, and Harry didn't fully understand it or even acknowledge it -- it was simply who he was. And since no one had ever bothered to look deeper at the reasons he did what he did, no one else understood or acknowledged it either.

* * *

While Harry was making breakfast, the boy awoke facedown on an unfamiliar lawn. _Where am I? _he wondered. He tried to look around, but a shooting pain down his neck quickly brought the darkness around him again.

* * *

About a half an hour later, a high-pitched screech rent the quiet air around number 4 Privet Drive.

"BOY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" A crash sounded from the kitchen, followed by a grunt of pain.

_Should've known I couldn't sneak any food, _Harry thought, grimacing as he attempted to ignore the throbbing pain in his head where his aunt had hit him with the frying pan. He reached back slowly to touch it and wasn't surprised when his hand came away red with blood._ Shoot._

"Get out of the kitchen, _freak_. And don't expect any food today, either. Not after this attempted thievery!" his aunt sneered as she slapped him painfully across the face.

He sighed inwardly, then turned and headed out to the garden.

"And if that garden's not finished in two hours, there'll be hell to pay!"

* * *

Harry quickly stuffed the pain deep into his mind until he could no longer feel it as he walked toward the shed to gather the gardening equipment. As he passed the corner of the house, however, he saw something out of place.

_What's a shoe doing on the Dursleys' lawn? _He walked swiftly over to the shoe, forgetting his earlier determination to let nothing distract him. As he turned the corner, though, he gasped.

Lying there, next to the house, was a small child, clearly unconscious.

He bent down to examine the boy and felt his heart constrict in his chest. There was a deep gash across the boy's face and his clothes were torn and bloodied. _Oh, Merlin. What in the world am I supposed to do now? The Dursleys can't find out about this, but he obviously needs help…_

Quickly making a decision, Harry got up and entered the shed, where he pulled the old camping cot out of the corner. He'd moved the cot to the shed after the Dursleys had put it out with the trash several years ago and it had come in handy whenever one of the neighborhood kids was really hurt and couldn't leave right away. _Okay, now all I have to do is get him in here and then the Dursleys will never find out. They won't come in here, and I can help the poor kid. I wonder who he is...he can't be from around here -- I know all the kids in the neighborhood and I haven't heard about any new neighbors..._

He grabbed the gardening tools on his way out and dropped them off next to the patch he was supposed to be weeding before heading back to the unconscious child.

"Okay, big guy, I'm just going to move you to a safer spot, okay?" he murmured quietly as he stooped to pick up the boy. "I'm really sorry if this hurts, but the Dursleys can't find you or they'd have a fit. Another unwanted kid left on their doorstep?! You definitely don't want them to find out."

The child remained unconscious as Harry gently set him on the mattress.

"Okay, I'll be back soon," Harry promised as he slipped out the door again.

* * *

The next time the boy woke up, he found himself lying under a blanket in semi-darkness. He blinked in confusion as he tried to figure out where he was. _How did I get here? I don't remember anything…_

A quiet cough made him jump as he tried to turn towards the noise.

"Hey now, it's alright. You're safe. But you probably don't want to twist yourself around like that -- your neck is pretty messed up." A teenaged boy with messy dark hair and glasses stepped into his line of vision. "I'm Harry," the new boy said, smiling. "What's your name?"

The boy frowned. _What _is _my name? Jeez, I don't even know who I am! This is _not _a good sign. _"Umm…"

Seeing his hesitation, Harry cut in, "If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. I just don't want to be calling you 'kid' all the time, you know?"

"No, no, that's not it, it's just…I can't remember," the boy said, distress evident in his voice.

"Oh, well, that's not too surprising, I guess. It looks like you knocked your head pretty badly. So how about we pick a name?"

The boy nodded, but stopped at the pain the motion caused. "That'd be fine."

"Hmm, okay then. You could be Peter…or Andy? …No? Uh, how about…Matt? Chris? Aaron? Sam?"

The boy grimaced. "I don't really like any of those."

"Would an older name be better? Maybe Romulus? Or Anthony? Brutus? Goodness, I'm not very good at this, am I?" Harry laughed.

"Alright. How about Lukas? Zaccheus? Or maybe Lysander? Perhaps Dominik?"

"I think I like Lysander," the boy said with a small smile.

"I like it too," Harry replied, grinning. "Lysander it is, then. Ly for short. So, now that we've got your name out of the way, how about drinking some of this? It's medicine…it tastes terrible, but it'll help you feel better, I promise."

"Okay," Ly said reluctantly as Harry helped him down the potion. A few seconds later, Ly sighed with relief. "Wow, that really does make it better!"

"Yeah, it's like magic, right?" Harry smirked.

* * *

Harry was worried. After he had originally put Ly in the shed, he had gone out to work some more on the garden, but he just wasn't able to keep his mind on the task. Every ten minutes or so, he'd go check on the still unconscious boy. When his aunt had left to go to tea, he had snuck back into the house and found a blanket for him. He also snuck into the kitchen and had taken a bit of food for the boy to eat when he got hungry. Harry's stomach had tightened painfully, protesting the four days he'd been without food himself, but the boy was more important and he couldn't risk stealing any more than he had or Aunt Petunia would notice.

Ly's injuries were pretty bad. Besides the cut on his face, he had a bruised rib, a sprained wrist, numerous cuts and bruises on his torso, and neck strain and stiffness, which appeared to have radiated to his back as well. But that wasn't Harry's biggest worry. Ly's apparent memory loss was a much bigger problem, one Harry couldn't fix with potions or bedrest.

_  
Oh well, _he sighed inwardly, as he continued to weed the garden._ I guess we'll just deal with it as it comes. But in the meantime --_

He was startled out of his introspection, however, by the sound of a car pulling into the drive.

_Oh crud! I'm not finished with the gardening, and it's been over 3 hours since I started. Oh Merlin, Aunt Petunia's going to __**kill **__me!_

Moments later, Harry found himself being dragged into the house behind a livid Petunia.

"You insolent, ungrateful, lazy THING!" Each furious word was punctuated with a slap. "You were to be DONE with that garden over an HOUR ago! Just you wait 'til Vernon gets home. He'll show you!" And with that, she shoved him into the stair rail and stalked into the living room, leaving Harry lying dizzily on the floor.

"Now get out there and finish, you lazy brat! I have a list for you once you're done!"

* * *

Harry stumbled back outside and hurriedly finished the garden. When he walked into the shed to put the tools away, he was greeted by Lysander, who gazed up at him, a slight frown on his face.

"Harry?" he queried softly.

"What's up, Ly?" Harry asked amiably, smiling at him despite the lingering pain from his earlier meeting with the frying pan, which had returned full force after Petunia's manhandling.

Ly's eyes had widened at the sight of his face, which was still red with Aunt Petunia's handprints.

"Uh…I, uh…well, I was going to ask…but…what happened to your face?" Ly stammered.

"My face?" Harry repeated, his hand automatically flying up to his cheek. He winced at the contact. "Oh. It's, uh, it's nothing to worry about. Just some...some sunburn," he stammered.

It was obvious Ly didn't believe him, so he changed the subject quickly.

"What were you going to ask?" he questioned.

"Oh, uh, well, I was just kind of hungry, so I wondered--"

"Merlin, I'm sorry! I totally forgot. Here, I brought you some lunch." Harry reached for the food he'd nicked earlier, ignoring the protests of his own stomach as he handed it over.

"Thanks," Ly smiled slightly.

"Not a problem. Oh, I should probably tell you…I don't know when I'll be able to get out here again today. My aunt is, uh, obsessed with cleaning and stuff, so I don't know when she'll let me get away, but I'm putting this medicine next to you so you can take it if you need to. It's a pain reliever. Just make sure you stay in bed, alright? Your body's not ready for you to be walking around yet."

"Okay, will do."

"Good. See you later, Ly," Harry responded as he walked back toward the house.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the day attempting to complete his incredibly long list of chores, which included cleaning the kitchen, tidying up Dudley's room, vacuuming the living room carpet, dusting the shelves, organizing boxes in the attic, and scrubbing down the bathroom, among other things. The only blessing was that Dudley's gang hadn't gotten ahold of any of his other charges, so he didn't have to stop working to take care of them. Still, by the time Vernon got home, Harry's muscles were aching, his head was pounding and he still had quite a few more items on the list. Aunt Petunia was supremely unhappy with him, and hovered behind him the entire time he was making dinner to make sure he didn't try to eat any again. This made Harry's clenched stomach protest all the more, and Harry found his mouth watering and his vision blurring. He blinked rapidly to try and clear his head, but his pain and the delicious scents from the food he was cooking assaulted him mercilessly, until he couldn't stand it any more.

"Please, Aunt Petunia, I can't…" But that was all he could get out before his uncle, having heard his voice, charged into the room.

"BOY!" he yelled "Don't you DARE go making demands of my wife, you twisted little freak! Petunia's already told me how lazy you've been today, boy, and I WON'T STAND FOR IT!!!"

Uncle Vernon's ringed finger colliding with his already tender cheek was the last thing Harry felt before he blacked out.


	3. Food and Shelter

_**Warnings:**__ Abusive!Dursleys, noncon!, manipulative!Dumbledore, smart!Harry_

**Food and Shelter**

While Harry was attempting to complete his chores, Ly was thinking. Hard.

_Okay, so I'm sitting here on a cot in some sort of shed…looks like a garden shed. Why am I in a garden shed? I can't really move around much, although whatever Harry's been doing had to have helped because I don't fall unconscious every time I turn my head. But how in the world did I get here? How did I get injured? And why is Harry taking care of me? I feel like there's something I'm missing…something really important that I have to remember. But what could it be?_

He closed his eyes and searched his memory for any clue as to what had happened. _Nothing._

His rumbling stomach interrupted his musings as he turned toward the plate of food Harry had left for him. _Hmm…Harry said something about not knowing if he could get out here again today, so maybe I'd better conserve the food he brought me. That sounds like an intelligent idea…_He split the food -- some spaghetti with sauce and two slices of garlic bread -- into three equal portions and ate one of them. _Well, at least my stomach feels better now, _he thought as he placed the remainder of the food on the shelf next to him.

He grimaced suddenly as he felt pain returning to his limbs. _Ohhh, that hurts. __**Really **__hurts. What do I do now? Wait, Harry said something about a pain reliever…Here it is. Thank goodness. _He drank the contents of the vial quickly before falling gratefully into a drug-induced, pain-free sleep.

* * *

Harry groaned softly as he regained consciousness. Blinking to clear the fuzziness in his head, he noticed that he wasn't in his room. _Where in blazes am I? _he wondered, starting to sit up.

*Crack!* "Oh God…" he moaned in both pain and realization when he knocked his head against the inverted stairs above him. _Why am I in the cupboard again? They haven't stuffed me in here since I started going to Hogwarts! It's a lot more cramped than it used to be…_

He then took the opportunity to assess his injuries, carefully stretching his arms and legs. _Well, at least Vernon didn't take too much advantage of my unconsciousness this time, _he thought ruefully. _Just some bruised ribs and a sprained wrist. _He moved his hand to his forehead to massage his throbbing temple, but halted when it brushed his cheek. _Well, that and this gash on my face. _He traced the mark Vernon's ring had left stretching from his right ear to the corner of his mouth. _It could be worse._

His stomach clenched agonizingly, as if to prove him wrong. _Merlin, I haven't eaten since…since Dudley got "food" poisoning four days ago. Alcohol poisoning is more like it. But surely ickle Duddikins wouldn't get drunk! No, it has to be nasty Harry's fault. He's the cook, after all! _Harry smiled sarcastically at his own imitation of his aunt, before clutching his abdomen as his stomach rebelled again. _Food. I need food…_

He sat up cautiously, trying not to aggravate his injuries, then listened carefully. There was nothing moving in the house. _Okay, so it's probably late. Yeah, there's Vernon snoring…_

He inched his way toward the cupboard door and peered out through the crack, searching for the outline of the padlock that they normally kept on the cupboard. But, by some miracle, the he saw that the lock hadn't quite closed, so all he had to do was maneuver it…_like so…and then…over a little…just a bit more…Got it!_The lock fell to the floor with a clunk. Harry tensed, listening hard, but miraculously, there was no movement upstairs.

Creeping out the door, he headed for the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, where he spotted a container of two-week-old casserole squished against the back wall. Sighing with relief, he took the food as well as a fork and slunk back to the cupboard.

_Ly hasn't had any food since lunch, _he remembered, just as he was about to start eating. _I'll have to find some way to get him some…I can save half of this, but he might not want it, it's going bad. I'll just have to nick some more, I guess. _With a resigned sigh, he started eating slowly, savoring the feeling of food -- even partially moldy food -- sliding down his throat.

************************

The next morning, Harry was awakened by his aunt's usual "Up, boy!" and he grimaced as he gingerly maneuvered his sore limbs out of the cupboard to go make breakfast.

After Vernon left for the morning, Petunia handed him a piece of mildly burned toast. "Here, boy," she sneered. "Since you apparently can't stay conscious without it. And do something about your face! I won't have the neighbors asking questions."

That said, she handed him his daily list of chores and stalked from the room.

Harry wrapped the toast in a napkin before dutifully stepping into the bathroom, where he used a rag to clean up most of the dried blood on his face, leaving nothing but a thin, scabbed line across his cheek. He then headed outside to the garden shed, where he thankfully had some healing cream on hand. He dabbed it quickly onto his face, feeling the skin re-grow under his touch. He wouldn't have bothered, but he did want to avoid awkward questions. Thus reassured that no one would be the wiser, Harry turned to study Ly's still-sleeping form. As if feeling his eyes on him, Ly turned toward him with a soft groan and opened his eyes.

"Hey Harry," came the sleepy greeting.

"Good morning, Ly," Harry replied, smiling gently at the younger boy. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," the boy replied. "My neck only hurts a little now and it's a lot easier to breathe. I'm just a bit hungry." His stomach growled in agreement of that assessment.

"Well, I brought you a slice of toast for now, but you'll have to wait a bit until I can get you some more food, ok?" Harry handed over the napkin-wrapped toast apologetically. "I'm sorry it's not much, but I'll get you some more later, I promise. And here's some more medicine. With any luck, you'll be better in a couple of days."

That said, he grabbed his gardening tools and strode out the door.

********************

In the middle of gardening, however, he felt eyes resting upon him and he whirled around, reaching for the wand he never had during the summers thanks to his uncle. His relief was palpable when he found himself looking at a little girl standing on the other side of the white picket fence.

"Lissa," he greeted the girl with a smile, using his nickname for her. He had helped her and her brother Matt avoid "Big D's" gang on several occasions and had given both of them self-defense tips.

"Hi Harry," Lissa responded, a small smile briefly appearing on her face before she frowned.

"What's wrong?" came Harry's concerned inquiry.

"It's Matt…he's hurt. Can you help him?"

"Sure, just give me a second and I'll be right there." Harry stood up and strode to the garden shed. "Hey, Ly, how're you feeling?" he asked as he grabbed a portable first aid kit from the shelf.

"Pretty good. I'm kind of bored, though," the boy confessed.

"Hmm…maybe I can find you some books to read when I get back. How's that sound?"

Ly grinned. "That would be awesome!"

"Alright. I'll be back in a bit."

"Okay," came the reply as Harry left the shed to follow Lissa to the park.


	4. Healing and Hurting

_**Warnings:**__ Abusive!Dursleys, noncon!, manipulative!Dumbledore, smart!Harry_

**Healing and Hurting**

Harry followed Lissa to a secluded corner of the park, where he found Matt lying under a tree. He drew in a quick breath at the extent of the younger boy's injuries, but immediately knelt down and began to clean and bandage his wounds.

Matt looked up through pain-glazed eyes at the boy he regarded as both his big brother and his hero.

"Hey Harry," he smiled weakly. "You came."

"Of course I came, kiddo," Harry replied, digging into his bag to get a pain reliever. "Here, drink this and you'll feel better in no time."

Matt dutifully drank the nasty-tasting liquid and sighed with relief when it hit his stomach and the pain abruptly faded. "Thanks," Matt yawned, his body relaxing so much without the painful stimulus of his injuries that he suddenly wanted nothing more than to fall asleep.

Seeing this, Harry gathered him up in his arms and stood up. "Let's get you home, bucko," he said softly as he and Lissa headed toward Number 7 Privet Drive. "And no more getting caught by the resident neighborhood bullies, you hear?" he admonished lightly.

Matt managed a grin. "But I'd much rather annoy you by making you come take care of me," he teased sleepily.

"Taking care of you doesn't annoy me, silly," was Harry's soft response.

When the trio reached the driveway of Number 7, Harry set Matt on his feet and gave him a gentle push toward the house. "Go on, get some rest before—"

Suddenly, a shriek split the air. "Melissa Marie! Matthew Thomas! Get in the house this instant!" Harry looked up, alarmed, as a woman in her mid-thirties ran out of the house towards them, a cricket bat in her hands. Upon noticing the sluggish movements of her son, her face whitened in fury.

"You…you filthy little delinquent!" she shouted at Harry. "What did you do to my son?! You've hurt him! Just wait until I…I'll have a talk with your aunt and uncle about this, boy!" She swung the bat menacingly at him, while shepherding her children behind her. Harry paled considerably at the mention of his relatives. "Get out of here before I call the cops! And don't you ever touch my Matthew again!" This time the bat connected with Harry's ribs, causing him to moan in pain as all remaining color drained out of his face. He fell to his knees on the pavement.

"It serves you right, you freak!" The woman cried angrily as she turned toward the house.

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said softly as he picked himself up, his pain evident in his eyes.

"Get out!" the woman shrieked again, as Harry stumbled away, unaware of Lissa's tearful gaze on his back or Matt's horrified "Mum, you _hurt _him!" It didn't matter anyway, because Harry knew just as well as Matt's mum that he deserved it, although not for the reasons she thought.

_I'm sorry, Sirius, _was all he could think as he headed back to Number 4.

*******

It wasn't until after he had finished his work in the garden that Harry remembered his promise to Ly about getting him some books, and by that time, it was nearly 12 o'clock. The work had, thankfully, distracted him from his depressed thoughts about Sirius and he slipped upstairs, grabbing a few of Dudley's old novels from the shelf in his room. On his way out to the shed, he stopped in the kitchen and grabbed some of the leftover chicken from the Dursleys' dinner the previous night to give to the injured boy. If the Dursleys found out, he knew they'd throw a fit, but with any luck they wouldn't notice. There was still a lot left, after all.

Ly grinned when Harry entered the shed laden with the food and books.

"I come bearing gifts," Harry joked.

"Thanks, Harry!" the boy replied enthusiastically, examining the paperbacks Harry had brought before turning his attention to the food.

"Not a problem, kiddo," Harry assured him with a smile, placing some more medicine next to him. "Make sure you drink all of this, now," he admonished. "I'll be back later," he added, leaving Ly to his new entertainment.

*******

Ly happily started on a novel as soon as he finished his meal. It was an older book called "Catcher in the Rye" by some American author. He didn't understand all of the slang, but he enjoyed the main character's sarcasm and wit. '_Phony' _he laughed to himself. _I'll have to add that to my vocabulary. It's almost as good as 'dunderhead'!...Wait, where did _that _word come from? 'Dunderhead'? Hmm. Oh well. That's a cool word, too._

Thus occupied, Ly didn't notice as the hours slipped away, and soon it was too dark to read and he fell asleep.

*******

Harry also fell asleep soon after nightfall. It had been an exhausting day, what with doing his chores, which he had miraculously finished (for once), dealing with the Dudley's snide comments, and helping Matt, which had taken a lot out of him, as he had used a tiny bit of his healing magic on the worst of Matt's wounds.

Harry had been able to heal himself wandlessly since he was seven (a survival tactic, to be sure), and he had slowly figured out how to apply the same concepts to others. Of course, he couldn't do too much magic on his Privet Drive "charges", as it would be difficult to explain how their injuries just "magically" disappeared, but he always healed the worst injuries enough that they wouldn't do any lasting harm and used potions as often as possible. He also had to be careful of how much he healed himself – if all his injuries just disappeared, his uncle would thrash him for his "freakiness" the next day, and he knew from experience that _that _was always ten times worse. Despite his uncle, he would normally still heal the worst of his injuries so that he could keep working. This summer was different, though. He had once held out hope that his godfather would take him away from Privet Drive, and it had been for that day that he lived. Now, it would never happen and _that _was entirely Harry's fault, so he felt he deserved any injuries he received. If it weren't for his own stupidity, he never would have been at the Dursleys' in the first place.


	5. Crime and Punishment

_**Warnings:**__ Abusive!Dursleys, noncon!, manipulative!Dumbledore, smart!Harry_

**Crime and Punishment**

By the end of the week, Ly was feeling exponentially better, so much so, in fact, that he had taken to walking around the shed. At first, his muscles were so weak that he could barely make it once around the perimeter, but the more he practiced, the stronger he became.

One afternoon, after Harry came in to give him some lunch, Ly decided to go outside. The shed, while it contained a number of mildly interesting first aid supplies, mysterious vials of odd-smelling medicines, some of which he recognized from what Harry had given him, and even some sort of inexplicable automatic toilet—well, more like a chamber pot—was not really enough to keep him entertained and he longed to feel the sun again.

Ly slipped out the door of the shed and found himself in a pristine backyard surrounded by a white picket fence. He wandered over to the garden, which he knew Harry took care of (as he came into the shed several times a day with gardening tools). _This is the most orderly garden I've ever seen,_ he thought to himself. _Harry must be a real perfectionist._

Ly then walked to the front yard. He studied Harry's house. _Number four…on…hmm, what street is this?_ He wondered as he looked around for a street sign. _Ah, Privet Drive. All the houses here look alike._ He meandered out the gate and down the block, gazing around curiously. Eventually, though, he started to feel tired, so he headed back to Number Four. As he neared the fence, however, he heard a shout behind him. Turning around, he saw a group of teenagers who looked to be around Harry's age coming toward him.

"Hey kid," smirked a large, fat, blonde boy. "You new around here? I don't recognize you…"

"I…I'm Lysander," Ly stammered, suddenly feeling panicky.

"Well, we just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood," the blonde boy chuckled maliciously.

Before Ly knew what was happening, Ly found his arms pinned behind him. One of the older boys laughed as he tried to wriggle free. "Help!" Ly cried desperately.

"Kid, you'd better shut up now," a tall skinny dark-haired boy stated as the blonde backhanded him across the face. "We don't tolerate insolence around here…"

"Please…" Ly whimpered, his cheek smarting from the blow.

"Hey 'Duddikins'," called a different, familiar, and very welcome voice from somewhere behind him. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size for once? Oh wait, I forgot, there aren't any other kids your own size, you're too fat."

With a growl, the blonde kid (Duddikins?) turned toward Harry. "Why you little…"

"Little what?" questioned Harry sarcastically. "At least 'little' is an adjective that can be applied to me. I can't imagine anyone calling _you_ 'little' anything. Well, unless it's your father, perhaps…"

The blonde boy's face turned an interesting shade of puce. "Get him!" he ordered imperiously, waddling in Harry's direction as fast as he could. Ly fell to his knees as he was suddenly released. He looked up to see Harry darting away from the house, the gang in pursuit. Ly shakily got to his feet and examined the damage. His knees were skinned from when he fell and his arms were bruised where the older boy had held him. The inside of his cheek was bleeding, too, as he'd bit it when the blonde had slapped him.

_Well, it could've been a lot worse,_ Ly thought as he limped back to the shed. _Thank goodness Harry showed up. I hope he's okay…_

**********

Harry, meanwhile, was using every resource at his disposal to outrun Dudley's gang. He leapt over fences, cut through alleyways and generally made it close to impossible to catch him. But he was tiring quickly, an unfortunate side effect of the starvation rations he received every summer. Sensing this, Harry decided to head back to the house and hope that Ly was back in the shed so he wouldn't get caught again. He cut down an alley, ran through the park, jumped a few fences and was soon back in the Dursleys' yard. He attempted to slow his rapid breathing as he crept back to the living room, which he'd been cleaning when he'd heard Ly's cry for help.

**********

Several hours later, Harry was in his room when he heard his uncle come home. Harry cringed as he realized that Dudley was with him. He knew it was not going to be a pleasant night—it never was on the days when he prevented Dudley's gang from beating someone up. It had been a few weeks since the last time he'd had to step in, since the kids he'd trained had thankfully gotten good enough to avoid most confrontations, but that only meant that his punishment would hurt worse.

Sure enough, a few minutes later he heard his uncle lumbering up the stairs. The door slammed open.

"BOY!" Vernon shouted at him, his face purple. "Get your shirt off, you worthless piece of trash!"

Harry sighed mentally as he started to pull the ratty T-shirt over his head. Apparently he wasn't moving fast enough, however, because he suddenly found himself on the floor, his cheek throbbing from a collision with his uncle's fist. He sat up and finished taking off the shirt without complaint, his expression blank and emotionless.

"Against the wall!" His uncle was fumbling with the belt he was wearing. Harry noted the large decorative silver belt buckle with trepidation, though he showed no outward sign of unease. This was going to _hurt_.

Facing the wall, leaning on his hands, which were spread a shoulder's-width apart in front of him, he closed his eyes and felt himself tense involuntarily as he waited for the all-too-familiar WHOOSH of the belt flying through the air.

_Think of Ly,_ he admonished himself. _It's better that you get this than that he get hurt. And anyway—_

There was a whoosh and a crack, and Harry's back exploded in pain. Harry bit his lower lip hard to keep from vocalizing his pain. His uncle had _started_ with the belt buckle. He wouldn't be able to move when this was over with.

Crack!

Harry tasted blood as he bit through his lip.

Crack!

Crack!

Harry lost count of how many times his uncle had whipped him as his body screamed in protest. It wasn't long before his legs gave out and he fell to his knees.

Crack!

Crack!

Harry still refused to make a sound, although his vision was beginning to grey. _Think of Ly and Matt and Lissa and Johnny and all the kids who would be getting beaten up if you didn't go through this. It's worth it…for them and as penance for Sirius and Dumbledore and Cedric and Mum and Dad,_ he told himself desperately. Anything to avoid thinking of the pain.

He didn't even notice when his uncle left because he hurt so much. Eventually, he collapsed completely and sweet unconsciousness overtook him.


	6. Marge

_**Warnings:**__ Abusive!Dursleys, noncon!, manipulative!Dumbledore, smart!Harry_

**Marge**

When Ly had gone back to the shed after Harry distracted the gang, he had found himself too exhausted from the exercise and the adrenaline that had pumped through him upon being cornered to do anything besides curling up on his cot and falling asleep.

When he woke up, the sun was rising. Rubbing his eyes, Ly vaguely wondered how he'd slept that long, but when his tongue inadvertently brushed against the inside of his cheek where he'd mauled it, the previous afternoon came flooding back. _I hope Harry's okay…I mean, I'm sure he can take care of himself, but I would hate for him to get hurt because of me. Those boys were __**mean**__! I wonder if Harry knew them…it sounded like he did._

Ly sighed, frustrated at his lack of knowledge about his protector. Glancing around, he noticed some food on a paper plate on the shelf next to him. There was also a jar labeled "Bruise Balm" next to it. _Harry must have brought it after I fell asleep. Thank goodness he's here!_

**********

Harry was floating in a sea of black. It was nice to be painless and worry-free for a little bit. His brief respite was interrupted far too soon, however, as he felt himself being shaken and then slapped.

SMACK!

The hand connected with his cheek again and his eyes flew open. "Get up, you lazy boy!" screeched his aunt, who was still shaking him by the shoulder. "Vernon will want his breakfast soon!"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied, as he attempted to get up from the floor where he'd fallen the previous night. His eyes watered as waves of pain shot up and down his back as the movements stretched the scabbing welts and he almost fell down again.

"Hurry up! I expect you downstairs in five minutes!"

Harry nodded, his vision swimming. He grabbed a change of clothes from his dresser and headed to the bathroom while his aunt watched coldly. She sneered when he stumbled, but he didn't notice, as he was focused on making it to the bathroom before he vomited. Luckily, he managed it. He hastily cleaned himself up as best he could, while avoiding looking in the mirror. He didn't want to see the red, black and blue mess that he knew he was at the moment. He finally pulled a T-shirt over his head, grimacing as it pulled on his tender skin, and headed down to the kitchen to begin breakfast.

Petunia met him in the kitchen. "Now, boy, thanks to your little stunt yesterday, I'm going to be supervising all of your chores today. We can't have you running off to torment poor Dudley, especially when your chores aren't finished. And the neighbors can't see you right now, so you'll be staying inside today, freak. Oh, and Marge is coming at noon and staying for the week, so the house had better be spotless!"

Harry's insides froze at the mention of his "Aunt" Marge, but he forced himself to continue setting the table.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he replied dutifully, his face and voice emotionless. Inwardly, however, he was in turmoil. _Merlin, no, not Marge, please! What do I do if she…no, not again, oh God…!_ He then shook his head forcefully and tried desperately to think of something other than Marge's last visit. _Shoot, now there's absolutely no way I'll be able to sneak food out to Ly. They'll be watching my every move! What am I supposed to do?...Maybe I can sneak out at night? Or early in the morning, if I wake up before everyone else… That'll just have to work. I'll save him most of whatever they give me. I mean, I'm older, so I can go longer on less food,_ he reasoned as he waited for the stove to heat up.

**********

True to her word, Petunia didn't let him out of her sight all morning. She sat at the kitchen table as he washed the dishes and scrubbed the kitchen floor, hovered as he vacuumed the living room and dusted the furniture, and observed as he made up the guest room for Vernon's sister. All in all, by the time Harry returned to the kitchen to make lunch, he was not only stiff and sore from the previous night, but also thoroughly sick of his aunt and his head was throbbing from getting slapped around all morning. His aunt obviously resented having to watch "the freak" all day, even if she technically didn't have to do any work. Of course, he also knew that his day was about to get ten times worse.

Lunch was just about ready when the expected knock on the door came. Harry braced himself inwardly as he finished setting the table. Petunia answered the door with a sickening "Oh Marge, how _lovely_ to see you," which was quickly followed by a sharp "Boy! Get in here and take your aunt's things to her room!"

Harry complied, after ensuring that everything in the kitchen was in order. He entered the hallway and was met with a leering Marge. "Still here, boy? I'm surprised my brother hasn't thrown you out yet! If it'd been me, you wouldn't've lasted a day." She paused. "Well, what are you waiting for? An invitation? Grab my things, boy!"

"Yes, Aunt Marge," Harry gritted out form between clenched teeth, his body protesting as he bent to retrieve her suitcase. Marge's piggy eyes lingered on his backside as he straightened and resolutely trudged up the stairs. "And make sure everything's unpacked and put in its place!" she added venomously.

"Move it, boy! Look alive!" Petunia put in, glaring at his retreating form. She then turned to Marge. "Vernon should be home later this evening, he's out at a luncheon for work and Dudders is out to tea with his dear little friends, lovely boy that he is," she simpered.

"That's my boy. How was his school year? Is he still boxing?" Marge queried.

"Yes, he's the captain of Smeltings' boxing team. We're so very proud of him. Here, you go on into the kitchen. I'll get the boy down to serve us lunch."

"Oh, that's not necessary Petunia. Let me retrieve him. After all, I'm sure you've spent more than enough time with the brat, supervising and such. I know he can't be trusted alone in the house," Marge replied with a smirk.

Petunia huffed in agreement. "I had to follow the freak around all morning to make sure he was doing his chores. Yesterday the brat took off without finishing after we'd let him outside by himself!"

"Oh, you poor dear! Here, you sit down and have yourself a rest. I'll go take care of the little son-of-a-gun, don't you worry. In fact, why don't you just leave his supervision to me for the week. That way you can go out with your friends and relax and I'll keep the boy in line," Marge suggested, a sickening gleam in her eyes.

"But I couldn't ask you—"

"Nonsense! Consider it a week of vacation. And I'll not hear another word against it," Marge asserted, ushering her sister-in-law into the kitchen and pulling out a chair for her. Once Petunia was satisfactorily seated, Marge waddled back into the hallway and lumbered up the stairs, heading toward the guest room, where Harry was attempting to unpack her things as quickly as possible. Unfortunately for Harry, this wasn't fast enough to avoid Marge.

As he bent over to put the last of Marge's clothes in the dresser, Marge came up behind him. He resolutely ignored her until he felt her pudgy arms encircle his waist, pinning him against her voluptuous torso. He started violently and struggled in vain to get free of her grasp, but Marge just moaned slightly, apparently aroused by his attempts to escape her. He froze as she spoke.

"Now, now, my little whore-boy," Marge growled, running a hand over his chest. Harry couldn't suppress a shudder as his thoughts inevitably turned to the last time Marge had visited, the summer after second year. He knew she had been obliviated, but did she remember what had happened earlier that day? _Oh, Merlin…_

"Get your hands off me!" he choked out as he began to panic.

"Oh come now, don't be silly. You know you enjoy this—after all, you were begging for it last time," she taunted, a feral expression on her face. "It's been far too long, boy…"

Harry shook his head, shifting his body slightly in hopes that he could still get away. He stopped, though, as his back exploded in pain. "No…"

"Well perhaps you're right, this isn't a good time. After all, Petunia's waiting downstairs for her lunch and I'm rather hungry myself," Marge whispered roughly in his ear and her hand slipped under his shirt and caressed the waistband of his oversized jeans, leaving no doubt in his mind as to what exactly she was hungry for. Harry swallowed audibly.

"But we'll just have to continue this another time," she added venomously. "After all, we have all week." Harry was unprepared when she shoved him off of her and found himself sprawled facedown on the floor.

"Well, boy?! Let's get a move on! Your aunt's waiting!"


	7. Whore

_Hey guys, I'm really sorry that I didn't post any warnings for this story. I wasn't thinking, obviously. My sincere apologies if you ended up reading something that upset you. Warnings are up now. Let me know if you think I should add something more._

_**Warnings:**__ Abusive!Dursleys, noncon!, manipulative!Dumbledore, smart!Harry_

********

For the next few days, Harry did his best to avoid being alone with Marge, but it was near impossible, since she had been given jurisdiction over him for the duration of her stay. At night, after sneaking out to either give Ly food, which he stole from the kitchen, or a bit of the Muggle money which he had had exchanged before leaving Hogwarts so that Ly could buy some food from the nearby corner store, Harry would be plagued by nightmares of Marge's last visit. He woke up several times with his forearm bleeding from biting down on it to keep from screaming.

The memories of that week, where he had been chained in his boxers to the foot of Marge's bed, denied all sustenance, and whipped daily with Marge's horsewhip due to his refusal to give in to her demands, were forced to the forefront of his mind. Some nights, he awoke with his lower back burning where she had branded the word WHORE into his skin after he had finally given in. He wouldn't ever have done it, either, but she had threatened to get Vernon to give her custody and then prevent him from going to school, and he knew that if that happened, he wouldn't survive and he would never see his friends again. So after she had made that threat, he had swallowed his pride and begged her to allow him to screw her, just as she had demanded.

His face still burned with shame when he remembered the moment when he had given in and taunts and jeers that had followed. She had made him ask over and over again until she had finally unchained his wasted form and forced him to bed with her. He hated himself for giving in and had exploded that evening when she had claimed that his "bitch mother" had been "just like him" in that respect. That was when he had run away, because he knew that Vernon wouldn't let him live after performing magic on his sister.

Harry had never intended to come back after that summer, but Dumbledore had somehow caught wind of his plan and had taken him aside soon after his third year and told him the prophecy and about the blood protection at the Dursleys' and reprimanded him for running away. He further explained that if Harry ever left that protection, the entire wizarding world would fall, and surely a little pain and discomfort was worth the continued survival of the entire population. Harry, whose sense of self-worth was practically non-existent even before Marge's worst transgression, couldn't find any flaw in Dumbledore's logic and was forced to agree that it was a small price to pay. He had promised Dumbledore then that he would stay with his relatives until he was 17, and Dumbledore had personally escorted him to Privet Drive the next two summers.

After his stunt with Marge and his subsequent departure, the Dursleys had been more ruthless than ever, especially as Dudley had taken Marge's example of sexual assault to heart (with the encouragement of his parents), but Harry was left with no choice but to stay there, because Dumbledore assured him that he would be watching and would bring him back immediately if he tried to leave. This year, the headmaster hadn't been there to escort him, but the day after the funeral Harry had received a letter in that familiar curly script that stated "Remember your promise. The fate of the world rests on your shoulders. A.D." and he had dutifully returned to his personal hell, afraid of what else the old man may have put into place to ensure his compliance before he had died.

Before he had gone to Hogwarts, the Dursleys had often left him at Marge's when they went on vacations, and the molestation had been going on for years, but she had never actually raped him until that day when he was twelve. When he was in his fifth year at primary school, their class had talked about sexual abuse, and Harry had recognized that that was what was going on, but he knew he couldn't tell anyone. There had been several concerned teachers throughout his primary school years, but whenever someone had gone to the authorities, they had mysteriously disappeared soon afterward. After what Dumbledore told him third year, he had realized that this was probably Dumbledore's doing, which only augmented the hopelessness of his situation. But after that, he had a reason he could put to his suffering. Now, he wasn't being hurt for no reason, instead, he was being hurt for the good of the wizarding world he had come to love so much.

********

Ly knew something was going on with Harry, he just wasn't sure what. Harry wasn't visiting him anymore during the day, and when he came at night, it was always brief and Harry seemed worried and tense, although he tried his best to hide it. If Ly hadn't been observing his protector closely, he never would have noticed, but when Harry moved, he held himself stiffly, as though it hurt him, and his face grew gaunter each day. The dark circles under his eyes, which were only visible briefly if Harry moved into the light from the streetlamp that shone through the shed window, indicated that he wasn't sleeping well. Ly wished he could do something.

One night, he noticed Harry's lingering, almost wistful glance at the small bag of crisps that Ly had bought the previous day. He immediately offered it to the older boy, who shook his head and smiled slightly. "No, kiddo," he'd said softly, almost sadly. "It's yours. You need to make sure you're getting enough to eat. You are, aren't you? Have I been giving you enough money? Is there anything else you need?"

"Don't worry, Har, it's been more than enough. I owe you so much for doing all this for me. Do you want me to get you anything when I'm at the store tomorrow?"

Again, that wistful smile on his face. "You're a good kid, you know that?" he said, as he ruffled Ly's hair. "If you have extra money, you can spend it on anything you want, but I'm such a pig I'd probably eat all of your food if you gave me half a chance," he continued with a grin.

It was that comment, voiced so casually, that cemented Ly's determination to do something. He _knew_ Harry wasn't a pig. He was so thin that Ly was sometimes afraid he'd fall over if a strong wind hit him. Plus, Ly had _seen_ a pig—that blonde kid who Harry had saved him from! Even Harry had called him a pig, and Harry was the most considerate, kindest person Ly could ever remember meeting. _Well,_ he realized, _that doesn't really say much, considering I can't remember _anything_, but still..._

So Ly determined that when he went to the store tomorrow, he'd get Harry something. He wanted to show the older boy how much he appreciated his help.

********

That night, Harry's nightmares were worse than usual. This time, instead of simply reliving his experiences at Marge's hand, he was forced to watch as first Matt, then Lissa, Johnny, Ron, Hermione, Krista, and finally Ly were standing in his place. For the first time in a long time, Harry couldn't hold back his cries as he dreams continued.

********

Marge awoke suddenly in the middle of the night. She was unsure at first of the cause of her abrupt awakening, but then she heard a noise coming from the room down the hall. _Aha!_ she thought triumphantly. _Now I can finally figure out what really makes the runt tick. Something else to use as blackmail against him. _

She crept down the hallway as quietly as possible and opened the door to Harry's room. She smirked as she saw the tears running down his pale face and the smirk widened when she heard what he was crying.

"_No!_...please, not Ly! No...don't hurt him! ...He's good...hurt me instead..._please!_ ...Stop it! ..._Run,_ Ly! ...Get in the shed! ..._Go!_"

Marge chuckled inwardly before closing the door again and returning to her room. _So he has a soft spot for some "Ly" character. And what was that comment about a shed?_ Marge stepped to the window overlooking the backyard as she contemplated what to do with this new information. Suddenly, the garden shed caught her eye. _I wonder..._

********

The next morning, Marge was up early. She locked the door to Harry's room before heading downstairs and out the door. She lumbered over to the window to the shed and peered inside, a savage grin forming on her face as she observed the sleeping form on the cot. She knew exactly what she was going to do.

********

Harry woke even more exhausted than he'd been when he went to sleep, if that were possible. He stumbled dizzily toward the door—Marge hadn't allowed him anything to eat since she arrived four days ago—and was surprised to find it locked. _Oh well, _he thought despondently to himself. _It's not as though I would've been able to eat the breakfast I cooked anyway. Wonder what I did this time, though?_

He returned to sit on his bed, head in hands, a headache already pounding behind his eyes. _Please let me get some food today..._

********

Ly awoke to someone knocking on the door of the shed. He sat up, wondering why Harry was back so soon. But when the door opened, it wasn't Harry. Instead, it was an extremely large, rather ugly woman with a simpering smile on her face. Ly's heart started to race, but he hid his discomfort as well as he could.

"Good morning," said the woman. "You're Ly, aren't you?"

"I...who are you?" asked Ly cautiously.

"Oh, my apologies. Of course you wouldn't know who I am. I'm Marge. I'm staying with Harry while his aunt and uncle are out. He mentioned that he's been helping you and that you could use a hot meal, you poor dear. Why don't you come into the house with me and we'll get you something good to eat, okay hon?"

"Er...well...I guess, if Harry told you about me..." Ly was still a bit suspicious of her intentions, but he couldn't say no, as he had no plausible excuse, and she was blocking the door and much bigger than he. Plus a hot meal _did_ sound good and Harry would be in there.

"Good, good. Come along then, child," Marge cooed as she ushered him out of the shed, her hand on his shoulder. Ly tensed under her touch, realizing that he wouldn't be able to get away if she was holding on to him.

As they walked through the back door into the kitchen, a peculiar feeling overcame him and his body started tingling as though he were passing through spider webs. Then, just as he started to sit down, a blinding pain shot through his head and everything went dark.

Marge was caught off guard, but decided to take advantage of the situation. She carried the small unconscious boy up to her room and sat him in a chair in the corner. She pulled down the shade and then proceeded to bind the boy's hands and feet to the chair. Then she walked swiftly toward Harry's room, glad that Vernon and Petunia had decided to take Dudley to an amusement park and resort for the weekend.

********

Harry rose quickly to his feet as he heard Marge approach his room. He mentally reaffirmed his promise to himself not to allow her to force him to do anything against his will while steeling himself for the molestation that he knew was coming.

Marge entered the room, smirking as she noticed that he was swaying slightly. She grabbed his arm and spun him around so his back was facing her before forcibly removing his shirt. With a fingernail, she traced the letters she'd branded into his skin on her last visit in a sick parody of affection. Her greedy eyes took in the countless scars marring his pale skin as he jerked away from her touch. She could see the goosebumps on his thin arms as she pulled him to her.

"Harry," she purred, her pudgy fingers tracing his abdominal muscles, "won't you ask to take me today?"

His eyes had snapped to her face at her utterance of his given name before his expression hardened.

"Never!" he answered vehemently. Marge was pleased to note that the boy still had fire in him even when he could barely stand. She reached up and stroked his cheek before suddenly pushing him hard toward the door. He fell on his hands and knees, no match for her bulk.

"We'll see about that, you whore!" she barked at him. "To my room! Now!"

********

Harry felt dread well up in his stomach as he entered the guest room. It took him a minute to realize they were not alone in the room and his heart stopped as he saw the small figure in the corner.

"What did you do to him?!" he demanded furiously.

"Nothing...yet," Marge responded as she retrieved the horsewhip from on top of the dresser. "But your refusal today is going to cost him," she added as she swiftly raised the whip in the air and brought it down on Ly's helpless form. A bright red welt appeared across his cheek.

"What do you think of five lashes?" taunted Marge as she raised her arm for another go.

"No!" Harry choked out as he lunged toward the younger boy. He jerked as the whip made contact with his bare back, but he made no sound other than a swift intake of breath.

"Well, I was just going to flog him, but I have no problem whipping both of you," she jeered as she brought the whip sharply down on his back again. Harry barely noticed for the tears running down his cheeks as he saw blood trickling slowly down Ly's cheek.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, as he jerked under another lash from the whip.

Two lashes later, Marge stepped forward and pulled him roughly away. "Now, boy, I might be willing to reconsider his punishment, if you just did as I asked," she offered maliciously.

Harry glanced at the still-unconscious boy in the corner as Marge raised the whip again. "No! ...Don't hurt him!" he cried out, tears filling his eyes. "Please..." he added softly, as he turned his head away.

"Please what?" taunted the woman.

"Please...let me –_take_–you," he forced out in a quiet, strained voice.

"You little slut!" Marge sneered caustically. "Ask me again!"

Eyes burning with shame and tears now flowing freely down his face, he did as he was told.

********

Severus was jerked to partial consciousness by a sharp stinging sensation across his face. _What pissed off the Dark Lord this time?_ He thought incoherently. _Odd that he isn't using Crucio...flogging is rather Muggle..._

"..._five lashes..." _

He tensed himself for another blow as he belatedly processed another crack of the whip, but—

"_**No!**__"_

And there was the sound of whip hitting flesh, but somehow, it wasn't _his_ flesh. _What in the world?!_

"_...no problem...both of you..."_

**Crack!**

"_I'm so sorry..."_

"_Please...let me _take_ you."_

And the blackness swirled around him again.


	8. Aftermath

_**Warnings:**__ Abusive!Dursleys, noncon!, manipulative!Dumbledore, smart!Harry_

In the wizarding world, rape was extraordinarily dangerous, both for the victim and the perpetrator. Thus, it was an incredibly rare occurrence. A witch or wizard who was abused in such a manner would either temporarily gain an extreme amount of power and then find him or herself less powerful than they were before or they would temporarily lose almost all magical power and then later find themselves much more powerful than they were previously. This was because the trauma wreaked havoc with a person's access to their magical core. The average witch or wizard could access only about forty percent of their core, but the extreme trauma of sexual assault could potentially double a person's access. Of course, that increase was paid for with a price. If the channels opened immediately following the assault, then it could only be sustained for a few hours before the channels would shrink even smaller than they were before, leaving the victim's magical abilities far weaker than they originally were. But if the opposite occurred, the trauma would close the channels almost completely for up to 24 hours as the person's magic slowly built up behind the restricted channels and then eventually forced them open, causing them to be permanently ripped wider. The sudden increase of power would often cause extreme outbursts of accidental magic and could knock the victim unconscious or even kill them from magical overload. Anyone in the vicinity of a recent sexual abuse victim was also in danger of being seriously hurt or killed, regardless of which reaction the victim had. Thus, even Voldemort and his followers refrained from sexual abusing their victims.

Before leaving the room, Marge ordered the boy back into his discarded boxers before binding his wrists tightly to the bedposts, leaving him on the floor by the foot of the bed with his arms wrenched awkwardly behind him. Harry's eyes were dry and his expression blank. He didn't seem to notice as she left the room and headed down the stairs.

Despite his outward appearance, Harry's mind was in turmoil. _I let her do it...Merlin, I _**asked**_ her to do it! She was right, I'm nothing but a dirty whore. Useless. I can't even protect the people I care about..._ His thoughts raced in circles and he attempted to clear his mind in vain. After several interminable minutes, his unseeing gaze landed on the boy still bound in the corner of the room and he was able to focus. _Ly...I have to get him out of here. It's all my fault..._He struggled uselessly against the bindings on his wrists, but only succeeded in rubbing them raw. _Okay, then I'll just have to use magic. _He attempted to focus his magic on the bindings, but when he reached inside of him for the familiar thrum of his magic, he felt nothing. _No! She can't have taken that away, too! Not again! Dear God, please no..._And upon finding himself once again powerless, his calm facade vanished and he broke down sobbing.

***************

By the time Severus finally felt consciousness surfacing, he remembered everything, including Voldemort's plan and the events of the past few days. Despite his adoring "Lysander memories" of the older teenager who had taken care of him when he was injured and scared, Severus raged against the Brat-Who-Lived and he resolved to make him pay. _For Merlin's sake_, he rationalized as his mind continued to swim toward consciousness, _the selfish brat hardly fed me! And he kept me in a _garden_ shed! Anyone with any sense of propriety would have offered me a guest room!_

But to his dismay, when he finally opened his eyes, it was to a scene that would be forever burned into his memory. There on the floor sat Potter, his head buried in his knees, arms twisted behind him and bound to the bed, naked except for a pair of ratty gray boxers and thin enough that the slightest gust of wind would knock him down. He was sobbing.

For a few long moments, Severus could do nothing but stare. He had never imagined that he would see the cheeky, insolent, rule-breaking Gryffindor Golden Boy like this. Then he could no longer hold back his astonishment and confusion.

"What in Merlin's name did you do to yourself _this_ time, Potter?!" he demanded, more out of anger over his confusion than any expectation of a response.

Harry froze before slowly lifting his tear-stained face to the other inhabitant of the room. There was a flash of some unreadable emotion in his eyes before his expression blanked more thoroughly than Severus would have thought possible.

"You remembered who you are," he stated, his tone flat and slightly hoarse.

"Yes," came the curt reply.

"Are you alright?"

"What do you think, you ignorant child?! I'm stuck here with you under orders to dismantle the wards around your house within 48 hours so that the Dark Lord can finally finish you off, I won't be restored to myself for another 12 hours, I have to come up with some sort of plan to get you out of here without incriminating myself or giving the Dark Lord cause to dispose of me, and I have to deal with whatever petty angst is bothering you so damn much! So no, I am _not_ 'alright'!"

Again, that emotionless voice that seemed so out of place on the boy he had never known to be without feeling. "I apologize for the inconvenience, Professor."

At that pronouncement, Severus paused. _Perhaps not as ignorant as I thought,_ was the first thing that came to his mind. _After all, he's already figured out who I am._ He shook his head, as if to clear his mind of complimentary thoughts of his former rival's son.

Then he looked down at the bindings on his own hands and feet. Closing his eyes and concentrating, he reached for the spark of his own magic and formed it into a blade in his mind. Then he used the sharp edge to cut through the ropes one by one. When he was finished, he allowed to the magic to snap back to its original position and opened his eyes. He massaged his wrists and ankles quickly but effectively before standing and walking toward the teen, who was watching quietly. He paused when he noticed Potter shrinking in on himself and shaking ever so slightly. _Apparently I can still be terrifying even when in a seven-year-old's body_._ Interesting._

"Do you know where there might be a knife or a pair of scissors, boy?" he asked sharply.

There was a barely perceptible flinch. "In the drawer of the bedside table," came the response.

Severus turned swiftly away from the boy and rummaged through the drawer until he found a pair of scissors. He then returned to the teen and carefully cut through the tight bindings on his wrists, wincing when he saw the red burn marks from where Potter had struggled against them.

"There. Up, now, Potter! And get some clothes on, for heaven's sake! I would rather not have to look at you half-naked."

Harry attempted to stand up, but ended up on his hands and knees, bringing his much-abused body into Severus' view. The Potions Master's eyes locked onto the four bright red whip marks edged with dried blood criss-crossing his back and he inhaled sharply as a partial memory surfaced.

***************

"_...five lashes..." _

_He tensed himself for another blow as he belatedly processed another crack of the whip, but—_

"_**No!**__" _

_And there was the sound of whip hitting flesh, but somehow, it wasn't his flesh. __**What in the world?!**_

"_...no problem...both of you..."_

_**Crack!**_

"_I'm so sorry..."_

"_Please...let me _take_ you."_

_***************_

Severus had the sudden urge to be sick as his eyes lit upon the word burned deep into the skin of the back of the "Savior" of the wizarding world and he realized what the conversation had actually meant.

"What the hell did you _do_, Potter?!" he spat furiously.

"I...I just...look, it's not important, alright?" Harry stumbled backwards, fear flickering across his face.

But this action revealed more of the teen's scarred and bruised torso to the now livid professor. Severus felt his control slipping as his magic swirled around the room, making him appear larger than anyone would have believed possible for a seven-year old body.

"_Not important?! _Do you have any idea what your life is worth?! And you would go risking it over some stupid little boy who you met a measly _two weeks ago!"_

"Professor, I..."

"Merlin, you imbecile, look at yourself! When Dumbledore finds out about this, he'll--"

A sudden flash of something akin to alarm crossed Harry's face. "Dumbledore?" he choked out. "But you...that is he...he's not dead?"

Severus paused. "No, he's not," he replied.


	9. The New Plan

_**Warnings:**__ Abusive!Dursleys, noncon!, manipulative!Dumbledore, smart!Harry_

What little color there was left in Harry's face had drained away and he shut his eyes. He felt as though he would black out at any second. _Dumbledore is alive._ _I didn't get him killed..._His emotions couldn't seem to decide whether he was relieved or...well, not _disappointed_ exactly. More like upset. Upset that he really wasn't free from the Headmaster's manipulations and schemes. _No, you have no reason to be upset, idiot!_ He told himself scathingly. _You should be overjoyed that the wizarding world didn't really lose its leader. Now quit feeling sorry for yourself!_

When he again opened his eyes, his features were schooled into an indifferent expression. "Well, in that case, I guess you really won't be taking me to a Death Eater meeting, since you obviously are loyal to Dumbledore. Rather a clever plan, really."

But Snape had seen the boy's indecision. _What in Merlin's name happened to Potter being Dumbledore's adoring "Golden Boy"? I thought he would be a bit more enthusiastic, since Dumbledore will certainly avenge him for what Potter let that ...harpy...do to him. _Ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that insisted that Potter really hadn't had a choice, Snape sneered at the figure still sprawled on the floor in front of him._ By Merlin, he's not even that much larger than I am in this child's body!_

"Yes, well, Potter, your elders do normally come up with more intelligent plans than you and your juvenile cohorts can."

Harry flinched at the reference to the Ministry fiasco. He knew that Snape would probably expect some sort of attitude, an angry retort or accusation, but he couldn't...he hadn't been expecting to put that mask back on for at least another month—the mask he wore at school, where he put on a brave face and did heroic deeds and was an obnoxious pain in the arse to any and all authority figures who stood in the way of what he wanted. He wasn't allowed to show any weakness when he was in the public eye, and especially not in Potions class. It was drilled into him. If he wasn't confident and fearless, then people who might otherwise have sided with the Light would turn to Voldemort. His peers wouldn't respect him if he didn't stand up for himself against the "tyrannical" adults. He had to do dangerous and daring things, so as to prove that he wasn't afraid and he could handle whatever was thrown at him. He had to be a superhero, untouchable and invincible.

He hated it. There were days at Hogwarts when he was so anxious and stressed that it made him sick. Sometimes at night, he would sneak out just to lock himself in an abandoned room to try and get away from it all. But he kept up the facade and no one had ever noticed that he wasn't really who he pretended to be. Until now, as he found himself unable to put the mask back on in front of the small boy who he had taken care of for the past two weeks. The boy who also, by some terrible twist of fate, happened to be the last teacher to whom he would ever have shown his true self.

So he curled in on himself just the slightest bit and didn't respond.

"What, no response, Potter?" Snape jeered, even as he took in the protective posture of the hunched figure before him. _He's scared of you, you moron!_ He ignored the obnoxious voice once again. _Merlin, he's probably waiting for you to strike him! Give the child a break, he's obviously not who you thought he was._ But Snape viciously suppressed his sympathetic thoughts and continued with his taunts.

"Do you still disagree, boy? Think that you know better than those of us with more experience? But of course you do! I'm sorry, you're the Boy who Lived! So obviously you must know more than the rest of us!"

"No, sir," Harry responded softly, fighting valiantly to control the tremor in his voice. "I'm sorry, sir. You're right." He couldn't bring himself to look up.

Snape could feel his temper rising as the brat – C_hild! _cried his conscience_–_ refused to rise to his bait. He turned away and continued speaking.

"Of course I'm right. Now listen carefully as I tell you how we're going to fix the mess you've gotten yourself into. If you screw this up in somehow, I swear you'll regret it!"

"Yes, Professor," came the distant reply.

"Now, the curse the Dark Lord employed will terminate exactly twelve hours from the time at which I entered the house. Now, when I crossed the last layer of wards to get inside, I regained my memories, which should have rendered me unconscious for two of those hours, which indicates that I should regain my body within ten hours. The Dark Lord expects me to bring down the wards within thirty-six hours of that occurrence. I shall bring down the wards, which will alert the Dark Lord and bring him and his followers to the premises, but before doing so, you will be given a portkey. You must activate the portkey precisely when I tell you, which will coincide with the destruction of the outer ward. This way, I shall be able to report that there was a further safeguard to the wards around your house which caused you to be transported to an unknown location as soon as the first ward fell. Do you understand?" he ended sharply.

"Yes, sir," came the awaited answer. "But..."

"But what, Potter?!"

"I...that is...he won't be pleased with you if he finds you here without me," came the stammered reply.

"What an astute observation, Potter," Snape drawled sarcastically. "That is none of your concern. He will not kill me, so long as it appears to have been a safeguard within the wards. So you must activate the portkey exactly when I say. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now get up off the floor and into some clothes, boy! I instructed you to do so at least fifteen minutes ago!"

Harry's face colored with embarrassment. He attempted once again to stand up, but without the support of anything, he swayed dangerously and paled far too rapidly as his vision began to tunnel. "Prof--" he began, before his knees started to buckle.

With a grimace of extreme distaste and, though he refused to acknowledge it, a fair amount concern for the obviously starving boy, Snape swept forward and grabbed onto him. "Steady, there, Potter. Take it easy. Here, hold onto the bed."

He stepped across the room to where Harry's trousers had been discarded in a pile. "Here, boy, put these on now. Where's your shirt?"

Harry took the proffered clothing and started to dress shakily. "It's not in here, sir," he responded finally, staring at the floor.

"You normally walk around--"

"No, sir! I—she – I mean, Marge..."

"Ah. I see. No matter, then. Where has that..._woman_... gone?"

"Downstairs, sir. She'll probably be eating lunch soon. But if she finds me...and you...not, er, where she left us..."

"If you think I'm going to sit tied up to that chair all day for fear of some stupid Muggle woman, you had better reconsider quickly, Mr. Potter. Where is your room?"

"Er...the room I stay in is down the hall, sir. But, really, it's probably nicer in here..."

Snape noted the boy's wording and filed it away for later consideration.

"No, take me there, Potter," he continued. "You need a shirt. You do have one in there, don't you?" But the boy misinterpreted his jest as an insult and flushed.

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, then. Show me where it is." Snape sighed, holding out an arm so that Harry could support himself.

Harry hesitated, but at a glare from Snape, consented. "Okay, sir."

When they entered the room, Snape barely held back his disgust and rather horrified astonishment. It was absolutely threadbare, not counting the few articles of clothing scattered across the floor, and he could see dark stains on the floor and walls that looked suspiciously like blood. The battered furniture looked like it would topple over at any moment. He swore under his breath.

"For Merlin's sake, Potter, what is _wrong_ with your relations?!"

"Where would you like me to start? Sir?" Harry replied, looking up with a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. But then he remembered who he was talking to, and the smile disappeared, to be replaced by an embarrassed flush.

Snape felt a pang of – _no, NOT regret!_ – when Harry's tentative lightheartedness disappeared. _Oh, shut up already would you? _He told the obnoxious voice. _The stupid brat got himself into this situation! Why didn't he just go to Dumbledore? I'm sure the old coot would have been falling over himself in an attempt to rectify the situation._

"I told you it's not as comfortable as the guest room…"

"Never mind that, Potter. Get a shirt on and take a seat. I think we have some things to discuss."


End file.
